pancake batter

yesterday, in a mere attempt to satisfy my cravings, i left work at my public relations firm to frantically drive all around cary in pursuit of locating the makings for the perfect chocolate chip pancakes. seven dollars and forty-four cents later, with semi-sweet milk chocolate chips, bisquick and a gallon of skim milk in tote, i was on my way home to become ms. emeril. as i walked to my faithless explorer, i had a quick revelation to check the box. perhaps i was lacking an ingredient. heaven forbid, should i have this revelation BEFORE i left the grocery store -- but regardless, i checked the box.

milk. check.
water. check.
sugar. check.
eggs. ummmm...

standing in the parking lot of the grocery, wallet and groceries in hand, i literally debated going back in the store to pick up eggs. knowing that i can only buy eggs in six or a dozen (and needing only two), i could not justify walking back in the store to purchase a necessary item for my dinner. instead of spending thirty eight cent and five minutes on retracing my steps, i voluntarily (and yet, with a hint of frustration) walked to my car, unlocked the doors and drove home as if this mishap never took place.

why didn't i just go buy the eggs?

was it for the mere fact that i knew i would never use the remaining four? was it my uncanny ability to be cheap in moments of necessity, but forget all the rules when i fall in love with a new pair of shoes that by no means i can afford? or perhaps, was it my lack of wilingness to return to the same place i just left as if to announce "i am a moron -- i forgot the eggs!"

as i ventured home to cook my chocolate chip eggless pancakes, i immediately discover ... i am no emeril. as batter is flung all over the counter because no need for one to use measuring cups, i struggle at getting the batter at the exact consistency for perfect pancakes. then despite my cheap behavior when it comes to purchasing appliances over accessories, my poor-excuse of a "stickfree" frying pan has to suffice as my medium temperatured griddle. when the pam spray turns brown because the pan is too hot, i begin to think "maybe this isn't going to work."

reluctantly, my pursuit for the perfect pancake continues. in the back of my head i hear my mom say, "wait until the pancake is bubbly ... then, quickly flip it." as i pour the batter into the brown sprayed pam, the once spoon-sized pancake becomes a massive glob on the pan. to make matters even worse, there are so many chocolate chips within this one pancake that bubbles do not have any room to form. and sadly, still yet, my only spatula is one that consists of holes.

tell me emeril -- how do you flip a batter-filled mass when your appliance is full of holes?

determined to no end, i continue my pancake-craze until three lobsided and twisted pancakes are safely on a plate. by then, i decide to call it quits. i place saranwrap over the remaining batter and chuck it in the fridge. disappointed and frustrated with my lack of ability to make the perfect pancake, i buttered my three sad friends, drenched them with syrup and ate their sorrows away.

but in the end, i learned this. no matter how much i tried to create the perfect pancake, there was always room for imperfection. yet through their imperfections, i discovered their liking. when i didn't have any eggs, i felt that i had already failed my mission. truth is, pancakes taste the exact same with or without eggs. and if i would have had eggs, i wouldn't have been able to save the remaining batter and eat it with a spoon as i blog right now. and while i may try five thousand times or five times to create the perfect, round, bubbly pancake ... i am no master. but my pancakes are pancakes regardless of their perfection or their lack of it. in the end ... no matter how imperfect, dishelved or disfunctional your pancake may be ... its still taste just the way you imagined it.

for some reason, i have an intuition that someone may need to hear this next part. and perhaps that someone is none other than myself. but what i have learned from my terrible pancake experience (and thus far, these past few months in life) is that youre never going to reach perfection. whether you are striving for an impossible goal or a level of perfection that you set for yourself, you are always going to fall short of your victory line. and the reason is simple: it's because we change and we adapt, but we forget to change and adapt our goals.

about a month ago, i was accepted to attend an internship program in new york city. "the job of my dreams." i thought i would be on the next flight to nyc, but after sitting and thinking about it over and over -- i decided to let the program go. "how could you have given up on your dream?" everyone said, and i first i thought maybe i had. but in reality, over the course of my life and these few short months where everything has changed, i have changed. i have established myself in a committed relationship, decided to relocate to a different city and begun a career that i never knew existed. but all the while i changed, i thought my dream had stayed the same. while i envisoned living my dream job, i forgot to notice my reality. and i had forgotten that one day long ago, i dreamed of being loved and doing something that i loved. and that's when i realized i was not going to follow a dream when i was already living one.

by no means, is my life perfect. but all too often do i try to make it. i carry a calendar around in sheer desperation of scheduling everything just right and think that i plan life to the T. but the moment that something rocks my world, i think i am a failure. yet, like my pancakes -- with or without eggs, lobsided or round -- we're always going to have something that makes us unique. theres always going to be something that we're good at, something that we're not, and something that we're willing to learn. but just because we aren't perfect, doesn't mean that we shouldn't ever try.

and just because we try and it's not perfect ... doesn't mean we have failed.

because pancake batter tastes great, no matter how it's cooked or even if it's cooked at all.

four seasons

strappy sandals begin their prowl. tanktops peak out from behind their once-worn collared shirts. sunglasses become a necessity, not an accessory. rainbows once again become the staple. windows roll down to let the springtime breeze in as the heat fades away from within. dogwoods bloom and tulips ripen to the freshest shade.

springtime is in the air.

without a doubt, spring is my favorite season. i love the scent of blooming flowers and the sight of budding trees almost more than i do admiring my freshly manicured toes peaking out from my trendy new shoes. it is a season of happiness, where the world awakens from the dead as if to say "everything is going to be better this time around." it is a season of renewal, where that which once faded away begins again with glee.

as i sit this pre-spring afternoon in mcalisters deli, outside the sun is shining and the trees are waking. inside, the guests sit and talk with one another -- some business professionals, others just friends making casual conversation. young moms are doing their daily rountine, toting around young children while their older ones are still being schooled. yet, everyone seems happy. in line, people are laughing. beside me, an older man dons his new cell phone to his equally aged counterparts. as the symphony blares through his ringtone, he beams as he informs them the notion of a ringtone no longer being a simple ring. as if he is the inventor of the modified ringtone himself, he prides in his "new" technology. and directly across from me, watching my every move, sit alex and allison -- two ever-so-precious blonde hair, blue eyes twins. as they sit across from one another eating their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sipping their hi-c, they continue to look over here and smile. "helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" they call out as if i am their long-lost friend. when i respond, their faces light up.

a stranger has just become a friend.

casually, we continue to make funny gestures and simple conversation throughout their entire lunch. as i sit and type, i watch their little faces discover their world around them. new to life still, you can tell they are taking everything in as if they are invincible and the world is perfect. another stranger walks by, and little alex stares up at him with his big blue eyes and turns his head with every step of the man. then catching eye contact with his sister, they both begin to chuckle.

four years old and three feet small, these two children encompass everything i wish i could still be. innocent, where everything you do it is not your fault. lovable, where the only thing anyone can do is look at you and smile. childish, where eye contact with another makes you laugh and smile. precious, where imperfections become your perfection. fragile, where your heart can be broken and mended within a split second. unaware, where everything you see and do is completely new. impressionable, where your mind is still formulating its capacity. simple, where being in the moment is the only moment you know exists.

instead, i sit here this afternoon at the crossroads of my life. within nine short weeks, i will close the life that i have only known to begin one that i have never even tasted. like a young adult caught up in love, confused by society and tainted by the world, my mind battles constantly the decisions soon to come. instead of living in the moment, rising with the morning sun and waking with the day, i live wondering whether the next step is really the best one to take. two steps forward seems to lead to four steps backward. a decision made crushes another dream. a dream followed pierces reality.

at what point do we stop living for the life we want to live in the moment we have?

for alex and allison, looking up at the things unknown brought laughter to their lives. for me, looking up at the things unknown brings fear, anxiety and worry. yet like seasons, all things will come together. trees bloom, leaves fall, seeds are planted, trees root. in the now, the life i once knew has fallen away in shades of orange, red and yellow and been buried underneath the tall oak trees. yet, as i look outside, small buds begin to emerge, the daffodils begin to bloom and life again, goes on.

as alex and allison jump down from their booster seats and grab their mom's hand, they both look back over at me and say good-bye. "see you next time," alex says as he turns his head and waves good-bye. again, their eyes catch one another's and they laugh as they walk away.

one day, they too will grow-up and find this world unbearable. they will lose the simpleness and fragileness they once obtained, to find themselves searching for answers amongst their tainted, impressionable lives. my hope for them is but one simple wish: that they too, would look to the seasons and see the sight of the blooming trees.

as their life begins ... so i wait on mine to blossom.